The Duo
by Kazolus
Summary: Set after season six, Jonathan and Andrew start their own mission of redemption in Mexico. Chapter three is finally up!
1. Fugitives

**Title: **The Duo

**Author: **Kazolus

**Rating: **PG for some language, nothing worse that what you get on Buffy.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Buffy and Angel or any of their characters.

**Summary: **I don't know if this would be set in a parallel universe, because it doesn't _directly _contradict anything that happens in season six or seven, but I don't think it quite fits in with the natural flow of the Jonathan & Andrew storyline. You can decide for yourself. Anyway, the plot - it's set after season six when Jonathan and Andrew are in Mexico. They eventually decide to start their own mission of redemption, fight the good fight and generally try to act really heroic in a sort of pseudo-Superstar-meets-Storyteller kind of way. Along the way they confront an old nemesis, and seek help from a mysterious Klingon-speaking man. As usual, reviews are always greatly appreciated. Chapter three coming soon. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter one - Fugitives**

_Ah, Mexico. Home of the sombrero, the chihuahua, burritos, and, of course, those really big moustaches. How is it, you may ask yourselves, that we came to such a strange new world? Well, our story began with an organisation. An evil one. A kind of "evil organisation" if you will. I, along with my evil sidekicks Warren and Jonathan, formed the Trio. For months we plotted against the Slayer, but with each attempt she thwarted our evil schemes. But then Warren, acting alone, in a hasty attempt to kill the Slayer, accidentally killed one of her friends instead. This forced Willow, the attractive lesbian witch, to turn to the dark side in order to seek blood-lusty vengeance. After submitting Warren to a slow, painful and incredibly messy death, she then proceeded to track down Jonathan and I. We were forced to face the dark witch, and after a battle of epic proportions, we, unfortunately, were defeated. And so it was that we fled to Mexico, where so far we've been hiding out for three weeks. And things are just about to get interesting..._

* * *

"Your turn," said Andrew.

"I spy," said Jonathan, "with my little eye, something beginning with M."

"Okay, erm..." Andrew thought for a moment, "Mantle?"

"No."

"Hmm," Andrew continued looking around the abandoned shack, "Mould?"

"Where's there mould?" said Jonathan, seeming surprised.

"Well," Andrew looked around, "there," he pointed to a small patch of green mould growing in a damp corner of the wall, "there," he pointed to another patch a little further up, "Oh, there's a big patch over there!"

"Okay," Jonathan interrupted, "point taken. One of us should probably clean that up."

"Not it!" said Andrew, sharply raising his hand.

"Why do I have to do everything?" Jonathan moaned, "You're the one who noticed it."

"Well, yeah," said Andrew feebly, "but you suggested cleaning it."

Jonathan sighed and let his eyes wander about the room. This was all that they had now. A dilapidated old shack which had been, understandably, abandoned by it's previous owners many years ago. The plaster was crumbling away from the walls all over the place, revealing areas of brickwork underneath. They had running water, but it only worked when it wanted to. Sometimes the pipes would just make worrying groaning noises and then relax into an eerie silence. And they only had one bed: an old, creaky double bed which they were currently sitting at the foot of.

"Morecombe and Wise slept in the same bed," Andrew had said when they first arrived, "they never seemed to mind."

"Yeah, but they never had to listen to your snoring," Jonathan objected.

"I don't snore!"

"Yes you do! Remember that time you fell asleep in front of the TV? You heard the recording."

However, they eventually decided that there was no other option. One of them could have slept on the floor if it weren't for the fact that they'd seen an interesting variety of disturbing creatures scuttling across it which had caused Andrew to shriek like a little girl. As the weeks went on they slowly began to get used to it, and Jonathan started using cotton wool in his ears.

Jonathan looked at the bed.

"Well you know what homophobia _really_ says about you..."

These were the words that echoed through his mind. Warren was the one who'd said them. Almost a year ago. Things were different back then.

"We deserve this," said Jonathan with a deep sense of remorse and fear.

"Yeah," said Andrew faintly, with the same sense of remorse.

"After what we did, I'm just glad Willow didn't kill us like she did Warren."

"Yeah," Andrew thought for a moment, "Money?" he said, noticing a small pile of coins on the bedside cabinet.

"No," said Jonathan.

They were both silent for a moment.

"D'you think our stuff will still be there when we get back?" said Andrew, "Cos it'll be hell trying to replace those Babylon 5 collector's plates."

"Maybe we shouldn't go back," remorse again crept into Jonathan's voice, "if Willow or any of the slayer gang catch us we're dog meat. Besides, we don't need that stuff. We only took what need to survive: money, a few changes of clothes," he paused, "and the Limited Edition Star Wars Figurine Collection." He nodded in the direction of an old chest of drawers which had Star Wars figurines standing, evenly spaced, on top of it.

Another moment of silence.

"Well, Willow could still come after us," said Andrew, shuffling uncomfortably.

"It's been three weeks," said Jonathan, trying to sound calm, "I guess Buffy must've stopped her by now."

"But what if she didn't?" Andrew turned towards Jonathan sounding worried, "What if the dark witch killed the slayer and her friends and for the past three weeks she's been hunting us like animals? She could burst through that door at any moment..."

They both stared in silence at the old, crumbling door that hung loosely from it's hinges.

"I have to go to the bathroom," they both said in unison. They looked at each other.

"Rock-paper-scissors?" Andrew suggested.

"Fine," said Jonathan.

They both shook their fists three times. Andrew had paper, Jonathan had rock. Andrew went to the bathroom, which was just next door to their room, so they could still hear each other if they spoke loudly enough.

"I still keep thinking about what that trucker said," said Jonathan.

"Yeah, me too," said Andrew.

* * *

**Somewhere outside Sunnydale, three weeks earlier...**

Jonathan and Andrew had hitched a ride with a trucker, and were being driven across a vast area of desert on their way to Mexico.

"So, you boys goin' a Mexico, huh?" the trucker asked in a loud, rugged voice.

"Yeah," said Andrew nervously.

"You know," the trucker slowly raised his eyebrows, "I've got a niece out in Mexico, an' she's single."

Jonathan and Andrew looked at each other awkwardly.

* * *

"No, not that thing," said Jonathan.

"Oh, sorry," Andrew's voice came from the bathroom, "Hey, is it mildew?"

"There's no mildew in here," Jonathan sounded confused.

"Oh, well there's a lot of mildew in here," said Andrew.

"You're cleaning that," said Jonathan before Andrew could dump the job on him.

"Fine," Andrew moaned.

"Anyway," said Jonathan, "I was thinking of the other thing he said..."

* * *

"Could you maybe go a little faster?" Jonathan asked nervously, constantly looking in the rear-view mirror, "We're kinda in a hurry."

The trucker glanced at the speedometer and accelerated slightly. He glanced at the two hitchhikers. They seemed terrified of something.

"You boys ain't on the run from somebody, are ya?" he asked in what he thought was an inviting tone of voice.

Jonathan and Andrew looked at each other and after a long pause Jonathan finally said: "Well, uh, yeah, actually we are."

Andrew nudged Jonathan.

"Dude, what are you doing?!" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Don't worry, stay cool," Jonathan whispered back.

A worried look crossed the trucker's face.

"Anybody dangerous?" he asked.

Suddenly Jonathan and Andrew both got a shocking mental image of what the trucker would look like with no skin.

"Er, nobody worth worrying about," said Jonathan with a poor attempt at a casual shrug, "just some guy, you know..." he trailed off.

There was a painfully long pause as the trucker eyed them both suspiciously. He suddenly realised that he shouldn't be eyeing them suspiciously, he should, in fact, be looking at the road. He snapped to attention.

"You know," he finally said, "my grandfather always used to say that there's a kinda natural order to the universe. Karma, or some crazy fortune cookie crap like that. As if wrongs are all put right somewhere along the line. I never believed any o' that. Another thing he told me once was that when he was a kid he once stole his best friend's hotdog. His best friend never found out it was him. And what happened to my grandfather? He died, aged sixty-one, when he was hit by a car shaped like a giant hotdog. Coincidence?"

He stared gravely at Jonathan and Andrew who shrugged nervously.

"All I'm saying," said the trucker, suddenly looking back at the road, "is that if you boys did something wrong, an' I ain't saying you did, don't get me wrong there. But if you did, then you can either set things right or you can pay the price. Cos sooner or later, justice will be served."

Jonathan and Andrew shuffled awkwardly away from the trucker, who managed to keep one eye on the road whilst staring at them gravely. Satisfied that he had embarked his wisdom upon them, the trucker gazed out into the desert which stretched into the distant horizon. He scratched his butt.

* * *

Silence.

An unpleasant creaking sound.

Silence again.

A sound like that of an unspeakable creature stirring in it's sleep.

More silence.

The sound of an unspeakable creature waking up, stomping around, burning several thousand people alive, then going to sleep again.

Yet more silence.

The sound of a toilet flushing.

"Finally!" said Andrew with relief, "It took four tries to get that thing to flush."

He walked back into the bedroom and adjusted his trousers. Jonathan was still sitting on the bed lost in a trail of thought.

"Set things right or pay the price," he reflected, "that's what he said."

He noticed Andrew was back and went to the bathroom. Andrew sat on the bed.

"Well what are we supposed to do?" he said sarcastically, "Just go and apologise to Willow? Cos that probably won't work."

"I know," said Jonathan as if he had a better idea which was infinitely more obvious. He tried to think of a better idea.

"Mattress?" said Andrew.

"No."

Andrew looked around for something else beginning with M.

"Well..." said Jonathan, feeling as though he should have thought of an idea by now. And suddenly he did. "Hey," he said with a little excitement, "we could be, like, superheroes!"

Andrew thought for a moment in excitement.

"Really?!" he said.

There were a few more unpleasant noises, then the toilet flushed.

"Why not?" said Jonathan, coming back into the room, "It beats sitting in this dump waiting to die."

There was a moments silence as they thought of the possibilities.

"We're hunted men," said Andrew with a glint in his eye, "pursued by evil forces, fighting against the dark side, seeking redemption..."

"...By helping the helpless," Jonathan continued, standing in the centre of the room, trying to look as tall as possible, "fighting the good fight, putting right what once went wrong, so that we may finally defeat the forces of evil."

"Er, dude," said Andrew nervously, "your flies are undone."

Jonathan looked down, quickly did his flies up, and gazed very embarrassedly into middle-distance.


	2. The Good Fight

**Chapter two – The Good Fight**

A few nights later, a woman was walking down a dark alley with a guy she'd met earlier that evening. She wasn't the sort of woman who would normally walk down dark alleys with guys she'd just met, but tonight she was happy to make an exception. She had met this guy, who'd introduced himself as Steve, in a bar. And, again, she wasn't the kind of person who normally picks up guys in bars, but she found him so charming, so sophisticated, so alluring (albeit slightly pale and a little sinister at times) that she simply fell in love with him. And Steve had charmingly assured her that this dark, spooky alley was a shortcut to his place.

"What's the worst that could happen?" she'd assured herself, "Steve turns out to be a vampire and kills me like in some cheesy horror movie?" She laughed at the idea.

She also laughed at something incredibly charming and witty Steve said as he charmingly walked her down the alley.

"You know, Steve," she said when she's sufficiently recovered from the laughter, "I normally don't do this sort of thing, but there's just something about you. Most guys I meet are only after one thing."

"Oh, Melissa," he said with a charming little laugh, (Melissa was the woman's name), "I _am_ only after one thing..."And with that, the bottom of his forehead grew charmingly lumpy, his teeth became charmingly pointy, and his eyes turned a particularly charming shade of yellow.

In the brief second that followed, several thoughts sparked in Melissa's mind.

The first was that she should become a lesbian.

The second, given that she'd lead a perfectly normal life up until this point, was that she couldn't believe she was about to be killed by such a cliché.

The third and most important idea she had was that she should scream. Loudly. And she did. Then her brain descended into blind panic.

Steve moved slowly towards her with a soulless glare and a demonic growl. She closed her eyes in sheer terror.

"Hey," said a mysterious, heroic voice.

Steve turned round sharply. Melissa reluctantly opened her eyes.

They both stared at the dark, but surprisingly short figure who stood in the centre of the alley. The faint moonlight glowed eerily around him. His black clothes flapped majestically in the night wind and he held in his hands a loaded crossbow. He looked nervous.

"Let the girl go," said Jonathan, trying to sound as macho as possible.

The vampire laughed at him.

Melissa chose that moment to ruin some perfectly good underwear. She made a noise that made Jonathan cringe. Andrew also cringed as he peered round a corner a little way behind Melissa. He picked up a led pipe that was lying on the floor and gripped it tightly. He looked at Jonathan who blinked twice at him, signalling for him to come forward. He began to move slowly towards the vampire.

"Now why would I wanna let her go?" said Steve, grinning at Jonathan, slowly moving towards him.

"Uh, because..." Jonathan stuttered, backing away, frantically waving his crossbow at him, "because blondes are, like, really bad for you," he nodded as convincingly as he could.

"Is that so?" said Steve, sarcastically.

"Yeah," Jonathan continued, "I hear they've got, like, cholesterol or-"

"Shut up," the vampire interrupted and leaned in towards Jonathan.

Andrew let out a very loud, slightly feminine shriek and ran towards the vampire, holding the pipe high above his head. He repeatedly whacked him over the head as hard and as quickly as he could. Steve crouched and tried desperately to shield himself.

Just as Jonathan was trying to get a good aim with the crossbow, he suddenly noticed a second vampire drop down from a fire escape up ahead and start to run towards them. He quickly looked behind him. He saw a third vampire also running towards them.

"Oh crap," said Jonathan.

With one sharp movement, Steve knocked Andrew's pipe out of his hands and grabbed him by the throat. He lifted him off the ground with only one hand. Andrew gasped for air.

"Idiot child!!!" Steve snarled at him.

Jonathan threw the crossbow to Andrew, but instead hit the side of Steve's head rather hard, causing him to drop Andrew, who staggered slightly, but remained standing.

Jonathan looked back and forth at the two vampires running at him from either side. Amidst the blind panic, an idea struck him. He kicked forward a wooden box from the side of the alley and stood on top of it. The two vampires were getting closer. Jonathan quickly stretched both his arms towards the ground, flicked his wrists, and two wooden stakes flipped out: one strapped to each wrist. As the vampires were almost on him, he held back his hands so the stakes stuck right out and he stretched each arm out to either side, causing both vampires to run into the stakes and simultaneously burst into dust.

"Dude, that was so cool!" said Jonathan in disbelief as he jumped down from the box and flipped his stakes back into their holsters.

Meanwhile, Andrew was losing a wrestling match with Steve.

The vampire pushed Andrew against the wall and growled at him. The crossbow lay on the ground nearby.

Just as Steve leaned in to bite him, Andrew kicked him sharply in the groin.

Jonathan cringed again.

Steve's jaw hung loosely from his head, and his eyes gave up blinking for the day. He let Andrew go, backed away and flopped gracelessly into a foetal position on the ground.

Andrew dusted himself off and picked up the crossbow. He stood over the wounded vampire and pointed it at his heart. Jonathan stood by his side.

Steve struggled to speak.

He'd never though of himself as a particularly powerful vampire, and he never denied that he didn't have a very evil-sounding name, but he had been around for almost a hundred years and was very embarrassed to be defeated by a couple of nerds.

"Who... are you?" he gasped.

Jonathan and Andrew looked at each other, both gave a very official-looking nod and looked back at Steve.

"We're the Duo," said Andrew in his best Han Solo impression.

And with that he fired the crossbow, sending a wooden arrow through the vampire's heart. He burst into dust.

Jonathan and Andrew took a moment to look around and absorb what had just happened.

"Dude," said Jonathan, gasping for breath and cradling his arms, "did you see that? We..." and then he fainted.

Melissa was still standing nearby, still shaking from the aftershock.

"Um," Andrew said to her, "no need to thank us. Er, the, uh, the only thanks we need is, uh..." and then he fainted too.

Melissa looked around like a frightened cat. She looked at the piles of dust that used to be three guys, one of whom she'd found particularly charming until he tried to kill her. She looked at the two unconscious young men who, as far as she could gather, had saved her life.

She shakily reached for her purse. She pulled out a wad of cash and threw it at the nearest unconscious guy.

After another quick glance around, Melissa ran off into the night.

* * *

_And so the battle was won. Jonathan and I, two young heroes, valiantly defeated a small army of vampyrs. We emerged victorious, and, also a little unconscious, but little did we suspect what lay ahead of us. Unknown terrors were plotting their evil schemes, hiding in the shadows of darkness, waiting for the right moment to strike..._


	3. Unknown Terrors

**Chapter Three - Unknown Terrors**

The warrior-like demon lay deep in thought. As he stared at the ceiling he emitted a low, rumbling growl that would have frightened away any squirrels that happened to be frolicking nearby. Of course, no squirrels ever came close enough to hear him growl. If the unmistakable aura of evil that surrounded him wasn't enough to scare them off, then his appearance certainly was. His rubbery skin was a deep, fiery shade of red and his body was covered with thick, chiselled muscles. At the top of his slightly pointed head was a row of yellow bone spikes in a kind of Mohican which continued all the way down the back of his spine. He wore only a steel chest-plate with leather straps and a loincloth made from the skin of a Haklar demon who once insulted his mother.

He did the growl again as he prepared to speak to the sympathetic bald vampire who was sitting nearby.

"But even so," he rumbled, "my wife still insists that we eat one of them. But, I don't know, I just can't bring myself to eat my own son. It just seems wrong somehow. I never did care about our traditions much. I kinda wanted him to grow up to be an accountant, you know? I know it sounds crazy and all that," he paused, "Does it sound crazy to you, Doc?"

Dr Campbell, the aforementioned vampire, grinned reassuringly at the demon laying on the couch.

"Well," he glanced at the name on the clipboard, "Quellakk, I can tell you there are many things in this world crazier than a demon accountant. In fact there are quite a few of them around these days. And it's perfectly natural for a demon such as yourself to have doubts about eating one of your spawn. Now, consider this," he looked at his watch, "Oh! I'm sorry, I think we've run out of time," he smiled apologetically.

"What?" said Quellakk, surprised, "But I didn't even tell you about the thing with the gerbils yet."

"Don't worry," said Dr Campbell reassuringly, "there'll be plenty of time for that in our next session."

Quellakk sighed and reluctantly peeled himself from the couch. The bone spikes along his spine popped one by one out of the leather upholstery. He got to his feet, straightened his chest-plate, and looked at the couch with an embarrassed face. It now had a row of holes along it where his spikes had been.

"Sorry about the couch, Doc," he grinned as amiably as he could revealing three rows of small pointy teeth.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Dr Campbell grinned back and shook the demon by the hand, "And good luck with your wife," he added with a casual nod.

"Sure," said Quellakk, strolling off towards the door, "see ya, Doc."

"Hey," Dr Campbell called out to him, "don't forget your Blade of Nazlar."

"Oh! Right!" said Quellakk, suddenly remembering. He pulled his enchanted broadsword out of the umbrella stand by the door. "I don't wanna forget this thing," he said, casually waving it around. He gave a slight chuckle and left, closing the door behind him.

Dr Campbell finally stopped grinning and sighed. He didn't need to sigh, because he didn't breathe, but he thought the gesture was appropriate. He stood up and shook his head at the damaged couch.

"He does this every single time," he muttered to himself.

He walked over to his desk in the corner of his office and rummaged through the drawer. He pulled out a small golden talisman. Holding it in front of the couch, he said something in Latin and the little puncture holes sealed themselves up. He tossed the talisman back in the drawer and sat at his desk.

Dr Campbell had been a psychiatrist for most of his adult life, and after he died he decided to continue his profession. He was now one of the most renowned demon psychiatrists on the planet for two reasons. One: there aren't that many demon psychiatrists on the planet to begin with, and two: approximately half the demon psychiatrists on Earth at some point just give up and eat all their patients.

Needless to say, after a hundred or so years, he too was beginning to grow tired of his job and was starting to wonder why he was doing it anyway. If he was going to live forever he didn't want to spend all of that time saying "and how does that make you feel?"

He sighed again, which, as we've already established, he didn't need to do, but he did it anyway.

He poured himself a fresh glass of warm virgin's blood and glanced over a few notes.

Finally he pressed a little button on his desk which buzzed.

"Carol, send in the next patient would you?" he said into the microphone.

Carol gargled something back at him which, in her demonic language, means "okay."

Dr Campbell got up from his desk and sat on the chair next to the couch.

A blonde, female vampire walked in wearing a pink furry jacket and carrying a matching handbag.

"Hi," she chirped.

"Ah," said Dr Campbell, now grinning again, "please, come in, have a seat Miss...?"

"Harmony," she said.

"Ah yes, Harmony," said Dr Campbell invitingly, "Please..." he casually gestured towards the couch.

Harmony came in and laid down.

"So," Dr Campbell reinforced his grin, "Harmony, what brings you here?"

"Well," Harmony began, "I guess I just kinda feel like I'm at the stage where I need some guidance, you know? I guess it all started back when I was in high school. There was this whole bunch of us and we used to hang out together and we just totally ruled. But then came Graduation Day, which we knew was a big step anyway, but there was this thing with a giant snake and all these vampires running around and everything. Anyway, I got sired by this guy who was just so not my type, but don't even get me started on that. So I had this whole new vampire thing going on and so I was like..."

Harmony continued talking, but Dr Campbell's mind was beginning to wander.

_I really like that plant_, he thought, looking at the plant on his desk, _It really gives the whole room a sort of glow to it. Hmm. I must remember to get some more virgin's blood. What was the name of that bar that does the really good AB negative? Hmm. Oh, I don't know, I'm sure it'll come back to me._

"...And he kept promising he'd take me to France," Harmony continued, "but he was always too busy worrying about his precious Slayer."

"And how does that make you feel?" asked Dr Campbell.

"Terrible," Harmony whined, "I mean he only ended up falling in love with the stupid Slayer. He never loved me. It was either the Slayer or that crazy Droodzilla girl..."

_I forgot to set the VCR to record that documentary thing,_ thought Dr Campbell, _I was looking forward to that. Perhaps they do a rerun later in the week. I suppose I should get a new VCR anyway. The one I have now isn't that great. Does this girl really need to tell me her whole un-life story?_

"...And she was all like 'I want you out of my city!' Can you believe that?" Harmony still went on, "I mean, she doesn't own the city for one thing. Anyway I couldn't go back to Sunnydale and I couldn't go back to L.A. so for a while I just drifted around, not knowing what to do with myself. Then some guy suggested that I come and see you, and you were all the way out here in Mexico, but I didn't have anything else to do, so I came out here and here I am!" She grinned a grin wide enough to rival Dr Campbell's, "So I guess I'm really trying to find out where I belong, you know? I mean I suck at being evil, I suck at being good, my best friend will kill me if she ever sees me again. So what am I supposed to do?"

Dr Campbell paused thoughtfully and stroked his chin.

"Harmony," he said with a slightly intrigued voice, "as far as where you belong is concerned, the answer is simple: you're a vampire. You're a creature of the night. A child of darkness. You are connected to a powerful all-consuming evil that will suck the world into a fiery oblivion. Can't you feel it flowing through you?"

Harmony thought for a moment.

"No," she said, "mostly I feel hungry. D'you have any blood?"

"Yes, of course, help yourself," Dr Campbell handed her the jug and a glass from his desk. Harmony sat up and poured herself some virgin's blood.

"But," Dr Campbell again switched to his intrigued voice, "you mentioned that you weren't particularly successful at being evil. When most people become vampires they make the transition fairly easily. But in your case you seem to be clinging to your old human self. You need to simply allow the darkness to become you, then things will become simpler."

"Well how am I supposed to do that?" said Harmony as if she'd been told to suck a peanut butter sandwich through a straw.

"Well there are several therapeutic techniques which can help you to get in touch with your dark side. One which I often find particularly effective is the evil laugh."

"...What?" Harmony gave him a strange look.

"I know it sounds strange at first," Dr Campbell explained, "and you probably think I've seen one too many Bond movies, but hear me out. What you have to do is to close your eyes and picture someone who you were particularly close to in life, like your mother or a close friend or someone like that. Or it could perhaps be someone who treated you badly. Or perhaps even something which you generally associate with good, like a puppy or something. Now once you've got them in your mind, you simply laugh at them. And it has to be an authoritative, evil laugh, as if you're looking down on them. This helps you to distance yourself from people emotionally and it gives you a great sense of power. Why don't you try it?"

Harmony looked a little embarrassed.

"Do I have to?" she rolled her eyes at him.

"Trust me," Dr Campbell assured her, "it _will_ help you. Now, concentrate. Remember, picture someone in your mind..."

"Fine," Harmony reluctantly put down her blood, sat up straight and closed her eyes.

"Now," said Dr Campbell, "laugh."

"Ha ha ha," she said sarcastically, "there, am I done?"

"Do you _want_ to get in touch with your inner darkness?"

Harmony reluctantly closed her eyes again.

"A-ha-ha-ha-ha," she did a little chuckle that didn't sound very evil.

"Hmm," said Dr Campbell, "it's a slight improvement, but try it louder and a little deeper."

"Like this? A-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" she sounded like a slightly embarrassed supervillain.

"Mmm," Dr Campbell nodded reluctantly, "try it more like this," he cleared his throat, "Wa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!" he'd clearly spent a lot of time practicing that, because he sounded like Ming the Merciless.

"Wa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!" Harmony mimicked his laugh perfectly.

"That's it!" said Dr Campbell.

"_Wa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaa!!!_" Harmony laughed even louder. She was surprised to find that she was actually starting to enjoy this.

"Even better. Try this: _Ahaaaa-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaa!!!_"

"MOWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!" Harmony threw her head back with an evil laugh as loud as she could comfortably manage.

Soon the two of them were lost in a trail of cheesy evil laughter that echoed into the street outside and provoked many strange expressions from passers by.

* * *

The sun rose over Mexico. Jonathan awoke to the smell of cat urine. He also awoke to the feeling of being sprayed in the face with something. He quickly put the two together and jumped to his feet. The cat ran away and went about his business elsewhere. 

Shaking the drips from his face, Jonathan looked around. He was still in the alley. He noticed a little bundle of money in front of him and picked it up.

"We don't need your money!" he called out, in case Melissa was still there, "The only thanks we need is the, uh, the satisfaction that comes from helping those in danger!"

His eyes widened as he quickly counted the money. He looked around, shrugged, and stuffed it into his pocket.

Suddenly he heard something rustling on the ground next to him. It was Andrew, comfortably snuggled up with his head resting on a full garbage bag. He was mumbling something in his sleep about Timothy Dalton. Jonathan rolled his eyes.

"Hey, get up," he said, gently prodding him with his foot.

"Hey? ...What?" Andrew reluctantly opened his eyes and looked around.

"Holy Shatner," he said when he finally realised where he was, "What are we still doing here?"

"I guess we must have passed out from the shock," said Jonathan.

Andrew got up and dusted himself off.

"I can't believe we really did that," he said in amazement, "it was cool, and also really scary."

"I know," said Jonathan, "hey did you see me do that stake thing when those two vampires were running at me?"

"Yeah, that was cool."

They both took another moment to reflect.

"We actually did it," said Jonathan, "and we survived. And we saved someone's life. We're like real heroes now. Like Batman and Robin."

"Or Xena and Gabrielle," said Andrew.

Jonathan gave Andrew a strange look.

"Hey, dude, why is your face wet?" asked Andrew, noticing a few drips on his nose.

Jonathan looked embarrassed.

"A cat peed on me," he said, wiping his face on his sleeve.

"Eew," Andrew cringed.

They were both silent again as they took another moment to reflect.

"Hey d'you wanna get some tacos?" said Andrew suddenly.

"Alright," Jonathan shrugged.

With that they walked side by side down the alley towards the rising sun, with their shadows stretched out behind them.


End file.
